


One Shot of Whiskey

by TDKeh16



Series: Tumblr Fics and Prompts [38]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Background zimbits at the end, Enemies to Friends, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Heart-to-Heart, Hugs, Mild Hurt/Comfort, One Shot, Past addictions, Stuffed Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-03-02 09:51:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13315653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TDKeh16/pseuds/TDKeh16
Summary: Whiskey took a deep breath. "You're really, um, close with Jack Zimmermann, right? Like, more than just from being teammates?"Bitty tensed. His mind immediately scattered in a dozen different directions, trying to anticipate where this converation was about to lead. "Yes," he paused to clear his throat. "Jack and I became very good friends when he attended Samwell.""Okay." Whiskey paused to contemplate his next words, but the silence was too long for Bitty's comfort. Whiskey spoke again just before his upperclassman would have begun to physically squirm. "I... I heard some things... about him... Um, rumours probably, but..."*** Whiskey and Bitty have a heart-to-heart during a kegster ***





	One Shot of Whiskey

**Author's Note:**

> This idea popped into my head after reading about much Whiskey admires Jack. He's the SMH's next hockey prodigy, but what if that's not all they have in common.  
> (Note: Bitty is not out to Whiskey yet)

"Oh! Connor! I didn't expect to see you at a kegster. Have you been here long?"

"Oh, yeah... I, um... I got here about 10 minutes ago."

Bitty laughed. "And you  _already_ need to take a break outside? Not that I blame you -- these kegsters are a lot to handle at first. You know,  _my_ first kegster? Rans, Holster, and Shitty made me do a keg stand! It was crazy! I mean, _sure_ , I'd had the occasional beer with my daddy's supervision before -- summertime in Georgia is no joke, let me tell you -- but a keg stand? I don't think I knew--"

"Bitty?"

Bitty blinked back his shock. Whiskey had not called him by that name much. He tended to lean towards "Bittle"... or nothing. Come to think of it, Whiskey never said much to him at all. "Sorry, I'm just prattling on. What is it?"

"I haven't gone inside yet," Whiskey admitted.

"Oh? Well don't let little old me scare you off! Go in! Have fun!"

"I-- It's just-- Nobody is going to force me to do a keg stand, right?"

"Oh, no, no, no! You don't have to do anything you don't want to. You-- Don't you drink, though?"

"No," Whiskey answered quietly. "Not really."

Bitty smiled. "Don't worry. We have plenty of gatorade and coke to drink. Not to mention more pizza and pie than even a hockey team can be expected to consume. You--"

"Bitty?" Whiskey interrupted him for a second time. He looked nervous, like he wanted to say more, but wasn't sure if he should.

"Yes? What's on your mind?" Bitty offered him another gentle smile. "You can tell me."

Whiskey let out a deep sigh that conflicted with the speed at which he nodded his head. "Okay, _well_..." He checked over his shoulder at the collection of drunk students at the other end of the porch. "Is there somewhere we can talk that's more, um,  _private?_ "

"Oh? Oh, sure! Um... we can go up to my room-- only if you're comfortable with that. I mean..."

"That works. Thanks." Whiskey followed closely behind Bitty as they weaved through the crowded party, grateful to avoid being spotted, lest he get pulled into a kegstand himself.

Bitty sat down on his bed, expecting Whiskey to take a seat on his desk chair, but the tadpole joined him, sitting about a foot away on the bed as well. Bitty scooted a little farther away, under the guise of getting into a comfortable position. "So, Connor... What's on your mind?"

Whiskey took a deep breath. "You're really, um,  _close_ with Jack Zimmermann, right? Like, more than just from being teammates?"

Bitty tensed. His mind immediately scattered in a dozen different directions, trying to anticipate where this converation was about to lead. "Yes," he paused to clear his throat. "Jack and I became very good friends when he attended Samwell."

"Okay." Whiskey paused to contemplate his next words, but the silence was too long for Bitty's comfort. Whiskey spoke again just before his upperclassman would have begun to physically squirm. "I... I heard some things... about him... Um, rumours probably, but..."

Bitty's mouth went dry, and inwardly he wished for a cup of tub juice at that moment. "What did you hear? Was it something to do with me?"

Whiskey blinked for a moment, caught off guard by the question. "Huh? No. Why-- Uh, no. It was, um, about Jack Zimmermann... back in the Q. Well, here too, but it started in the Q..."

"Ohhh," Bitty said quietly. 

"I heard some people saying that he used to... like, while he was a student here, _still_... It's not true, right? Rehab worked? He didn't do coke while he was a student, right?"

Bitty felt a wave of relief wash over him and he let out a small laugh. "Oh, honey, _heavens no!_ Jack most _definitely_ does not do drugs. He barely even _drinks_ \-- **_oh_**."

Whiskey folded his arms, as if trying to retreat into himself. He looked smaller than Bitty had ever seen him. "Yeah, so..."

"Oh. Oh, _Connor_ , I-- Do you want to talk about it? I  _promise_ anything you say does not leave this room. Cross my heart."

Whiskey gave a small smile and a short nod of his head. "Okay, _well_... I haven't really told anyone about this. Well, outside my family and a couple of friends back home... not even Tony knows. I've dropped a hint here or there, but..." Whiskey shrugged. "For a guy so full of questions, he doesn't really look for answers, you know?"

"True..."

"Or, I don't know. Maybe he's just giving me space until he knows I'm ready to talk about it. He's usually pretty perceptive about stuff."

"Maybe." Bitty offered him a small smile. To be honest, Tango never struck him as being that _perceptive,_ but he certainly was that _considerate._  It was entirely possible he was waiting for Whiskey to speak first. "He's a very sweet boy."

Whiskey nodded in agreement. "So, with Zimmermann... Did he ever talk to you about stuff? Like the OD and... you know, everything leading up to it?"

"He's told me some of it," Bitty began carefully. "To know Jack is to know he likes to keep a lot of things close to his chest. He values his privacy. You seem like the sort of guy who understands that."

Whiskey chuckled quietly. "Yeah. Maybe a little bit."

"But he thinks I'm pretty darn trustworthy, so if you'd let me, I'd like a chance to earn your trust too."

"I don't-- It's not like I _don't_ trust you... Really, Bitty. You're so nice. I just-- I kind of have trouble trusting anyone right now. A 'once bitten, twice shy' sort of deal. I think besides Tony you're probably the next closest thing I have to a friend here."

That caught Bitty by surprise. Whiskey rarely spoke to him, and when he did it usually ended with a frustrated comment about feeling 'mothered'. Bitty imagined Whiskey thought lots of words about him, and 'friend' was never one of them. "What about the LAX bros? Aren't they your friends?"

Whiskey scoffed. "They're jerks. I had a couple classes with Chad and when I found out that the lacrosse guys and the hockey guys didn't talk to each other, I thought... I don't know, that it was 'safe' I guess? If they found out something bad about me, you guys wouldn't hear it. And vice versa. Coming into Samwell, I never planned on telling anyone any of it, but..."

"But?"

"Well, here we are." Whiskey gestured vaguely to the space between them. 

"I have to be honest -- I didn't think you even  _liked_ me," Bitty admitted. "You always hurry off when I come around."

Whiskey's face heated up with embarrassment. "No, just... You ask a lot of questions. About  _me._ At first, I thought maybe somehow you knew about my time in rehab and were trying to get me to slip up or something."

"Oh, Connor, _never_."

"No, I know that _now_. But..."

"I understand." Bitty hesitantly reached out to pat Whiskey's arm, increasing in confidence when he did not flinch away. "You don't have to explain. _And_ you don't have to tell anyone about your past if you're not ready, but I will say... I was once terrified of revealing a secret about myself to this team, and you know what? They were so darn warm and welcoming I could hardly believe I was ever afraid to be myself around them. This team, _these boys_... they're so full of love. I promise that if you were to share, they would accept you wholeheartedly. Your past does _not_ define you."

"I mean, I know that, like,  _rationally..._ but I'm also Catholic," Whiskey said with a semi-bitter chuckle. "We're pretty big on the guilt."

Bitty guffawed. "Oh honey, I am from the _South_. You do _not_ needto explain yourself to me. I'm the closeted only son of a small town football coach, I **_know_** guilt."

Whiskey chuckled again, lighter this time. "Thanks, Bitty. You're a really great guy. I don't think I'm really ready to tell anyone else about my summer in rehab, but... would it be okay if I talked to you from time to time? Just when it gets too tough? I don't want to force you to--"

"Oh, I INSIST. Really. Please feel free to come to me about anything -- Don't force yourself to wait until it's 'too tough' to handle by yourself. Please."

Whiskey nodded his head, but went quiet. He broke eye contact and looked down at his lap, suddenly afraid he might burst into tears. He waited a minute before he spoke again, close to a whisper. "I... It's a lot harder than I thought it would be, you know?"

"Going through it alone?"

"Yeah. And even just-- On TV, people develop and recover from their addictions in the span of a season. Then it never matters again. I... I'm trying really hard to stay clean, I promise. And I haven't slipped at all... but it's been really tempting. I hate being so weak. It would be so _easy_ to fuck up my life again. It's scary."

"If there is any way at all I can help, please tell me."

"Talking helps. I have a...  _therapist..._  but that's different. This is-- It's good in a different way." Whiskey shifted on the bed again, bringing his knees up to his chest and resting his arms on top. "This is so lame, I know, but... Jack Zimmermann is kinda my hero. When I got out of rehab and read about how hard he was working here at Samwell? And how he was almost definitely going to get another shot at the NHL? It gave me so much hope. I thought if this school could give him back the future he always dreamed of, maybe..."

"It would work for you, too?" Bitty guessed the rest.

"Yeah." Whiskey sighed. "But then I got here and heard all those coke rumours and I just--" he let out a frustrated groan. "I was so mad at the thought that this team would let him hurt himself like that again. Like, was _that_ the only reason he was playing so well? Was the team okay with him falling off the wagon just so they could make it to the Frozen Four? I still  _loved_ playing hockey, but I thought it would be best if I avoided socializing with a team that would be okay if I fucked up like that. Tony was a rookie, so he was innocent in all that dangerous stuff, but the older guys? Like the captains and you? The ones who lived in the Haus with him? I decided to stay away."

"I assure you, Connor... those rumours about Jack were entirely false. And if there was ever a sliver of a chance that they might be true, this team would have helped him get back on track no matter what. We're a team of course, but we're a  _family_ first."

Whiskey sighed softly. "That's a really big relief."

Bitty patted his foot, which was now the closest body part within reach. "You know, I could talk to Jack if you like? He would gladly talk to you about what has worked for him after his overdose and time in rehab."

"Oh, no, I couldn't bother him with--"

Bitty gently shushed him. "It wouldn't be a bother. Let me tell you a little something about Jack Zimmermann -- he used to wake up at 4:00 am just to help me with my fear of checking. I never asked for his help, but as soon as he saw I needed it, he jumped in to help. Jack is... Jack is very caring. I know he might not look the part on the surface, but that boy... he likes to help people."

"But he doesn't even know me. It's different. You're his friend."

"I wasn't back then." Bitty chuckled. "Hooo boy, Jack was no fan of mine back in those days. I was just the strange little rookie that liked baking pies -- but he helped me." Bitty chewed his lip when Whiskey still looked unconvinced. "I... It could be good for Jack too, to be honest. We talk about a lot of things, but his overdose? His time in rehab? I can't even begin to know what that feels like. It might be nice to share with someone who understands from experience -- for both of you."

"Yeah, maybe..."

"No pressure, of course. I won't say a word to anyone, not even Jack, until you give me the okay."

"Okay. Thanks. Maybe not yet, but... someday? I think that might be nice, I'm just not ready for that yet."

"Of course. Baby steps. Can I give you a hug? I'm dying to give you one right now, but--"

Whiskey smiled. "A hug would be nice." He shifted closer to Bitty on the bed and let himself be wrapped in his upperclassman's surprisingly firm grip. Whiskey rested his head on Bitty's shoulder.

"I'm really proud of you, Whi-- Connor. Oh lord, I just realized how horrible that nickname must be for you. If you want, I can start trying to steer the team towards a different one? I know Chowder was pushing for 'Whiskers' at the start of the year."

"It's okay. I don't even drink whiskey." Whiskey chuckled against Bitty's shoulder. He waited for Bitty to end the hug, but when he didn't pull away, Whiskey wrapped his second arm around Bitty's back. "Thanks again for-- oh? What's that?"

"Huh?" Bitty relaxed their hug so that he could turn to see what Whiskey had spotted. Señor Bun. "Oh! Oh, lord. This is so embarassing. I'm just going to be chirped forever about--" 

Whiskey stopped Bitty as he attempted to hide his stuffed toy under his pillow. "No, I-- Can I see him? Or it? Her? Them? I... Please?"

Bitty smiled, his cheeks still blushing bright red as he carefully handed the stuffed bunny over to his teammate. "He's called Señor Bun. I've had him since... lord, since as longas I can remember. My mama has pictures of him in my crib as a baby. When I came here, I... I couldn't _not_ bring him with me."

Whiskey smiled. "He's cute. I get it."

"I know it's silly for a grown man to bring a stuffed toy to college, but he's been such a comfort to me over the years, and..." Bitty sighed and shrugged his shoulders. 

Whiskey cleared his throat. "...Mine's a penguin," he whispered.

"Huh?"

"I, uh... I have one too. It's a penguin. I got it as a christmas gift from my cousin when he was a baby -- or, my aunt bought it and said it was from him, _obviously_... but I was 4 years old and totally believed that baby picked out my gift." Whiskey chuckled. "I've had it ever since. A little penguin with a santa hat. I brought it to rehab. I brought it here too."

Bitty smiled. "Aww, that's really sweet. Does it have a name?"

"Pengi... I was really creative as a kid, I know." Whiskey grinned.

"Weren't we all?" Bitty teased him playfully.

Whiskey finally sat back from the hug and let out a long sigh. He wiped his eyes self-consciously even though his tears had never found their escape. "You give good hugs."

"So do you." Bitty watched him with a smile on his face for a moment. "I'm proud of you, Connor. It means so much to me that you trusted me with this. You don't have to worry. I've got your back, okay?"

"Okay. Thanks a lot for this, Bitty." Whiskey stood up from the bed and smoothed out his clothes. 

"Thank  _you,_ Connor." 

Whiskey chuckled and let out another small sigh of relief. "I think I'm going to check out the party for a while. Just to hang out a bit. I probably won't stay long, but..."

"Have fun. I'll be down in a few minutes." Bitty waved goodbye to him and his phone rang as the door closed behind Whiskey. "Oh! Hi, honey. Did you just get home? How was your flight?"

"Yeah, just got in the door. The flight was okay, I managed to sleep a bit." Jack stifled a yawn. "Still pretty tired, I'll have to call it a night soon. How's the kegster? It's not over already is it? Sounds quiet over there." 

Bitty laughed. "Oh lord no. This party is just getting started. You just caught me taking a little breather in my room."

"Oh? Haha," Jack chuckled. "Good timing."

"I had a nice talk with Whisk-- with Connor just now."

"Oh really? That's a surprise. I thought you were worried he didn't like you?"

"It turns out that was a bit of a misunderstanding, on both our parts. He's a sweet boy, just... quiet. Maybe a little shy."

"See? I told you that had to be the case. There's no way he could dislike you -- you're _so_ great, Bits."

Bitty smiled. "So tired yet still such a charmer, Mr. Zimmermann..."

Jack chuckled. "Hey, it's the truth."

"Hmm," Bitty hummed. "Get some sleep, sweet pea. I'll talk to you in the morning. Love you."

"Love you too, Bits. Good night."

"Good night." Bitty was grinning ear to ear as he hung up his phone. He found his way downstairs, careful to lock his bedroom door before a drunken wellie mistook his bed for a bathroom.

He spotted Whiskey off to the side, chatting quietly with Dex and Tango with a bottle of water in his hand. Bitty smiled and gave him a small wave. Whiskey responded by smiling back and raising his water bottle slightly in a toasting motion. Bitty had a feeling that Whiskey would find his place in the SMH family soon. After all, if a small pie-baking former figure skater could find a home amongst these rowdy bros, anyone could.

**Author's Note:**

> What did you think? I purposely kept the reason for Whiskey's rehab a mystery, I hope that didn't make it sound too weak. Thanks for reading!!!


End file.
